Here we have a novel about death and recovery.
The extent to which both can go.
A man's wife dies.
In response he attempts poisoning himself.
When this fails, he gets on his motorcycle and heads into the night.
He has no plan.
No money.
Nothing to show who he is.
That's when his journey begins. Mere survival at first, then through a series of happenstance events he's put back on his feet. He's gained access to his funds and starts out across the country. A three-day storm forces him into a truck stop. He's a writer by trade and first out of boredom begins writing this account. What transpires is a life cobbled together, one in which his wife becomes as much the story as he is. Fused by memory and questionable truths, all emerging through elegantly lyrical prose, it's about what it means to be real.
ELSWHERE is the last of a trilogy beginning with the single sentence tour de force THE SEPARATED WOMAN, followed by the poignantly given narration THE MAN I NEVER WAS, each in its own way augmenting and redefining the form of existential expression in the modern novel.
To learn without distraction, Theodore Sjogren began his writing life sequestered on an uninhabited island, where he lived by scavenging the sea, divesting himself of need for income or society. He then returned to marry his first and only love. Together they remained rootless, driving motorcycles across North and Central America, living off boats in the Caribbean, raising a family, and endlessly mingling art with reality.
